The Ocean

Once I sat by the edge of the world, where sky and earth meet the infinite sea: Sand in clenched fists: the more I held on the more escaped, flinging what I had into the ocean: a force swirling out of my control. I imagine my fears as the sand; I am allayed by the calm of lapping waves and toss the grains into the closest thing we have to what is endless on earth. Suddenly those things I fear are powerless, flung free into the deep blue that renders me powerless; waves are the hands that take my troubles, toss my burdens, to the deep, buried. 

Trying to focus on beauty instead, a balm to hurt: 

Seven beauties that bring me peace–

Yellow finches

Pink orange red poppies

Lavender fields

Cobalt blue birds

Beauty of a mountain meadow and yellow amber leaves in fall

Whales leaping, accepting life breath through waves.




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